To be fully human is to be fully a speck.
Be quiet. Stop ruminating.
I can read about honey until the bovines are back but until I put it on my tongue, I remain a well-informed idiot on honey. What I know is not what I think.
How does a single cut flower, so still, silent and surrendered, convene the attention of an entire room, then ‘float’ that room with beauty and aliveness and love? Well, not by doing anything.
To be who I am—to breathe from my heels, as Taoist master Chuang Tzu specified—it will be immediately helpful to relinquish past and future. Why? There’s no breath there. No rhythm.